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"I mean, it’s okay. To each their own,” she continues with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Not that I’m comparing you to my father. I mean, that would be too easy and would suggest, right away, that I have daddy issues.” This time, it’s she who winces. “What I mean is, I know you’re?—”
“Closer in age to your father than you.” I roll my shoulders in a bid to disperse the ache that’s settled between them.
“But I’ve never thought of you as in the same age range as him, even if, chronologically, you are. You're very different from him. You don’t feel that much older than me, most times, especially when?—”
“I fuck you?” I use the F-word, knowing it will distract her from the reminder of one of the biggest insecurities I have when it comes to our relationship.
I also want to make her blush. I feel victorious when her cheeks blaze.
She shakes her head and seems to get control of herself. “That’s a diversion, but I’ll accept it.” She points her fork at me.
Why that little—! “You shouldn’t point your fork at me, young lady.” As soon as the words are out, I squeeze my eyes shut and groan aloud. “I walked into that one.”
“You did.” She nods, satisfaction dripping from her voice.
When I open my eyes again, she’s watching me with a small smile. “For the record, I never did think I had daddy issues. But I like that you take care of me. I feel secure with you, know what I mean?” She pops a shoulder.
“I’m so glad you do.” My heart swells with happiness. I’d fucking do anything to protect her. I’d burn the world down to keep her safe. And even when we’re not together I’ll... I’ll look out for her. The happiness I feel threatens to fracture, and I force my thoughts back to the present.
“For the record, I have no fatherly feelings toward you, either. If anything, I feel fucking young here”—I slap my chest and wave my hand down my body— “and everywhere else it counts.”
“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.” She widens her gaze at me, that sassy expression back on her face, the one which makes me want to throw her over my lap and spank her. My dick thinks it’s a very good idea, and when she bats her eyelashes at me, my heart flutters. Fuck, I’m such a goner.
We look at each other for a few seconds. The silence stretches. And seated here, over the remnants of our breakfast—which I cooked for my wife with the low hum of the radio in the background and the sun pouring in through the windows, bathing everything in a golden glow—I feel closer to contentment than I’ve ever felt before. Something I'm sure I’ll never feel with anyone else.
A heavy sensation coils in my chest. My pulse rate spikes, and I swear, I can feel my palms begin to sweat. I shake my head to clear this strange sensation which grips me. Love—it’s love. I’m in fucking love with her. I bat the emotion aside, then clear my throat.
"I listened to pirate radio stations when I was at university. Got hooked onto them. Then worked, briefly, at one,” I offer. I’ve never spoken about this part of my life, but it feels right to share this with her, and for once, I don’t hold back.
She blinks her eyelids as if coming out of a trance. “Weren’t they outlawed?"
“You’re right, but some of them went underground. To this day, they operate without licenses in inner city areas or from ships in international waters.” Some of that old excitement I felt when I worked with one of them bubbles to the surface. I forgot how good it felt to be part of something bigger than me, something Ih had a cause and purpose. It’s a feeling I had when I was part of the Marines. “It’s a very effective platform to promote independent voices, especially serving niche cultural or social needs not supported by mainstream platforms.”
I break off when I notice her staring at me with a strange look on her face.
“What?” I snap.
“Umm, nothing.” She looks away, smothering a laugh.
I find myself flushing. Jesus Christ. When was the last time I felt at such a loss for words? “Raven,” I say in a warning tone, “out with your thoughts.”
She rolls her eyes. “Just thinking there’s a nerd inside you after all. No wonder I’m attracted to you.”
"Nerd, hmm?” Somehow, I’m pleased by the compliment. And I know her enough to realize this was a compliment.
She nods. “I hadn’t realized that you were a rebel when you were younger, and more idealistic than you are now. I’d give anything to have met you then.”
"Hmm.” I scowl at her, trying to figure out if she’s joking or is merely trying to pander to my ego when she dips her chin. “Also, you’re hot when you get all stern and formal.”
“You think I’m hot?” I smirk.
“I’m here, am I not?” She tosses her head. “And you know you are, so stop wanting to hear it from me.”
“I’ll never get bored of hearing it from you,” I say softly.
This time, it’s she who blushes. She looks down at her plate and digs into her breakfast. So do I. For a few seconds, there’s only the clinking of our cutlery against the plates. Then she asks, "Then what happened?"
“What do you mean?” I finish off my omelet and use the remaining toast to mop up the remaining bits on the plate.
